


Just Like You

by GayAquarius



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Alcohol, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Bittersweet Ending, Drinking to Cope, Drunkenness, Dysfunctional Family, Family, Gen, POV First Person, POV Male Character, Sad Ending, Underage Drinking, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-13
Updated: 2016-09-13
Packaged: 2018-08-14 18:31:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8024527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GayAquarius/pseuds/GayAquarius
Summary: Beth commands Rick to talk to a drunk Morty, claiming Morty got drunk because of him. Rick doesn't take it seriously... until he goes into Morty's room and sees a sight he wasn't prepared for.





	Just Like You

**Author's Note:**

> More sad/serious than my typical fics. I won't say anything else, though. Hope you enjoy.

“Morty is drunk and it’s because of you.” 

Beth spits the words out like venom. From her tone, you would have thought that I exposed Morty to crack. I almost can’t help but laugh. The image of Morty being drunk is hard not to chuckle at, but I knew my daughter wouldn’t hold back her wrath if I showed any indication that I wasn’t taking this 100% seriously.

“Are you sure? Last I checked, the kid was as straight edge as it gets.” Daringly, I add, “He always struck me as way too much of a lightweight to handle alcohol.”

_ “Dad,”  _ she sneers.

“So, what do you want me to do about this?” I ask.

“Talk to him.” Her voice is rough but her eyes plead. It’s hard to say no to Beth, especially given all the years I was absent from her life. If giving Morty a hollow, hypocritical lecture of the dangers of alcohol is what she wanted, I’d do it.

“Fine, sweetheart. But what do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know,” she whispers, sounding defeated.

I make sure not to laugh until I’m out of earshot from Beth, but I can’t help but react that way at the idea of a drunk Morty. Sure, maybe he was too young to be dabbling in booze, but I could only imagine what a messy drunk he was. I walked up the stairs, and knocked on Morty’s door. No response. 

“Morty? You in there?” Still no response. “Morty?” More silence. I open the door. My jaw drops.

Beth wasn’t lying. Walking into Morty’s room and discovering him passed out on the floor was jarring, to say the least. This isn't a sight I had ever expected to see. I freeze in place.

“M-Morty?”

From the ground, he lets out some groans. He writhes in place on the floor, seeming to be unable to stand up. I notice the bottle on his nightstand. Upon closer observation, it’s whiskey. Not only is the kid drunk, he’s drunk on hard liquor, and not to mention something from  _ my  _ booze collection. I almost want to yell at Morty for stealing alcohol from me, but I can’t seem to force out any words. 

Wordlessly, I lift up Morty by his armpits. He’s not too heavy, making it easy to place him on the bed. I turn him onto his side in case he pukes, ensuring that he wouldn’t choke on his vomit. I’ve been doing this for decades; I knew the drill.

He seems too intoxicated to form a coherent thought. I consider leaving him there, letting him sober up a bit. However, he stops me by saying something.

“Rick?” If it were any more than one simple syllable, I doubt I would have understood it. Morty is practically incoherent. I sit on the edge of the bed.

“Yeah, Morty... it’s your grandpa Rick.” 

I touch his arm. He doesn’t react at all. I know from experience that people are more likely to reveal their true feelings in the peak of intoxication. Waiting until he’s sobered up would make it less likely for him to tell the truth. I decide to ask him why he did this, and I’d do my best to understand his heavily slurred speech.

“Why’d you do it, Morty? You never seemed like the type.”

“W… why do  _ you  _ care?” Despite his slurred speech, I understand his accusatory words. I yank my hand away in shock. When I put more thought into it, I’m not all that surprised by what he said, given how I am. Still, hearing this feels like a kick in the chest. I decide to cover it up with my typical nature.

“Of course I care, Morty. What are you, stupid?” I then realize now isn’t the time for my insults. Morty continues to shift in bed, groaning. “Well, even if you are stupid… I can’t blame you for thinking that. I’m not the most loving grandpa, am I? If you want the truth, your mother wanted me to talk to you. She’s really worried, Morty. I know your classmates might try to convince you otherwise, but alcohol isn’t all fun and games, you know?”

“I  _ know, _ ” he snaps in his drunken state. I recoil slightly. “Do ya think I dunno that,  _ Rick?  _ I’ve seen what booze does.  _ You  _ showed me that.”

“Then…” My voice trails off. I take a deep breath. “Then why’d you do it?”

“I-I-I just… I wanted to... for...get.” His voice is no longer angry. It’s sad. Tired. It hurts more than his rage, his more cutting words. “It… seems to work f-for you.” He coughs, and some vomit escapes his mouth. It doesn’t get on me, but I still cringe at the sight. I’m very much used to vomit, but Morty’s drunken puking is somehow far more disturbing.

“Morty… I’m taking the booze away. You’ve had enough. I’m… going to get you a glass of water. You’re going to be crazy hungover. You’ll thank me.”

“O-okay… Ri-hic.”

I grab the bottle of whiskey, and I head down the stairs. This overwhelming sense of sadness washes over me, one I hadn’t felt since I tried and failed at offing myself. I may not act like I care, but I do care about Morty. Beth was right.  _ I  _ caused this. I’m a terrible influence on him.

Speaking of Beth, she’s in the kitchen.

“How’d it go, dad?” I don’t acknowledge her words. I can’t. I set the bottle down and take out a glass to pour some water in. “Dad?” I pour the water in the glass, grab a bit of paper towel, and walk back up the stairs, not even looking in Beth’s direction. Not only did I fail Morty, I failed her, my own daughter, by corrupting her son.

I head back up the stairs. I open Morty’s door. I set the glass of water on his nightstand. I take the paper towel and wipe away the vomit. Once again I make sure he’s laying on his side, and I ruffle his hair a bit.

“There’s your water. Drink up once you're awake. You’ll need it. Trust me.” I turn to exit the room. At the doorway, I add, “And take care of yourself, Morty. You can be a real idiot sometimes, but I still care about you. More than you know.”

Once the door is closed behind me, I slide down the wall, collapsing onto the floor. Then the floodgates open, and tears fall. I don’t want to cry, but I can’t help it. 

“I’m sorry, Morty,” I whisper to myself through my weeping. “Be good. Be better than me.”

**Author's Note:**

> This fanfic was very loosely based off of this fanart/comic, which emotionally fucked me up: http://mmishee-art.tumblr.com/post/128855223479/i-continued-with-the-morty-is-going-to-turn-into


End file.
